


still together

by onlyshe



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Near Future, Post-Canon, Reminiscing, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyshe/pseuds/onlyshe
Summary: "Hinata feels forever indebted to fortune for allowing him to grow alongside Komaeda, entirely lucky that he was able to spend years holding his hand and soothing away his worries."hinata reminisces about his life with komaeda.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 13
Kudos: 89





	still together

**Author's Note:**

> "i've had my share, it's just not fair / that we should be together  
> but if it's fine that i've done my time / let's walk the line together..."  
> \-- still together , mac demarco
> 
> happy valentines! i hope this is enough to warm your heart on such a love-filled day! <3  
> (also, it seems i have a penchant for writing these two lounging around in bed... sorry not sorry :P)

Hinata stirs awake.

His entire being is still heavy, laden with residual slumber. Odd fragments of last night sift through his mind, too fluid for him to grab hold of and examine. 

He opens his eyes, blinks thrice. His unconscious mind falls away with the flutter of his lashes, hazy memories of the night prior fleeing along with them. Replacing them comes the blurry image of Komaeda's face, glowing dimly with mandarins and reds from the sunlight outside. 

Hinata feels his breath catch in his throat, their proximity still managing to baffle him after all these years. The sunlight clings to Komaeda's sharp features and rounds them out, the hollows beneath shut eyes being filled with the radiance of the sun. He looks so soft, borderline angelic as his pale hair twinkles with glimmers of gold.

He remembers a time where Komaeda was the exact opposite of the way he is now. Always clinging to life with a feeble grip, rushing headlong into agonizing situations with little regard for his own safety. Life flowed so freely through him despite his body seeming to be against supporting him. It's a miracle that he was able to dance around the way he did before the simulation.

He remembers a time where the sun on Komaeda's face painted him as a demon, sharp lighting bringing out how skeletal he truly was. Harsh sunsets made cheekbones pop out of thin skin, odd angles casting deep shadows across his face that made him seem as if he had just crawled out of the depths of hell. Utter despair swirled in those pretty grey-greens of his, the lunacy reflected in them being spread with every word that fell from his lips.

Hinata's eyes trail down to those same lips now, pale pink and parted as Komaeda snores gently in his sleep. 

His lips. So soft, yet, so deadly. They had once dripped with poison, a venomous sting ever-present in the words he wove. Soft whispers of loud spats tickle his ears, the bitter cries of a younger Komaeda reverberating around his skull. Despairful ruminations, tearful arguments, barbed remarks… they all whiz by, the fond sense of nostalgia coating each soundbite being enough to distract Hinata from the negative connotations surrounding them.

His fangs have lost much of their venomous bite as the years passed them by. The poison within them lies largely dormant, waiting for their next chance to wound.

The storms they face have always been so far and few in between that Hinata finds himself forgetting just how malicious Komaeda can be when he wants to be. Perhaps it should still be obvious from the way Komaeda always pokes fun at him (and himself) with jagged jokes and sarcastic remarks, but being drunk on love has made Hinata lose some of his wits. 

He wonders how they even managed to stumble into a life of domestic peace after spending their first year awake eclipsed in cold. Komaeda, too scarred by years of real (and simulated) traumas and a genuine distrust of this "new" Hinata to let him in. Hinata, too hung up on his own past and his identity to have enough patience to properly deal with Komaeda's antics.

He had wanted so desperately to let him in, to show him the world he had rebuilt with help of the artificial intelligence in his head. Komaeda's heart was encased in a block of ice, so thick from a lifetime of bad luck and experiences that it took forever to thaw.

Hinata's gaze softens on Komaeda's sleeping form, remembering how often he would drift back to his pod and see this very face awaiting him. A sleeping beauty, shielded from the horrors of the world by his imagination.

He had waited for him to rise, waited for him to come around. He would've waited a thousand years more, even if it meant enduring all of the same hardships and more all over again. 

Komaeda shifts, tangling his legs in Hinata's. His prosthetic pulls Hinata closer.

The metal is cool against the small of his back, sending a shiver up Hinata's spine. Despite the chill, he leans back into Komaeda's palm. 

He loves Komaeda's prosthetic more than Komaeda does. He's always loved being able to hold it in his hand and see the way Komaeda's pale face becomes tinted with rose as the artificial nerves light up the real ones in his head. 

Images of a dainty hand with scarlet tips and gaunt bandages lick at the edges of Hinata's brain, the porcelain skin adopting a ghastly grey undertone as whatever morsel of life left in it began to wither away. He remembers hours spent slaving over the construction of the sleek black-and-white prosthetic that has replaced the grey flesh, his fingers trembling and eyes burning as he connects tiny wires to tiny microchips.

He had poured a bit of himself into the arm. Hours of tears, both relieved and frustrated, sliding from his tired eyes and onto the prosthetic are a testament to his dedication to it. Its creation was one of the first major projects he had undertaken and needed to use his talents for, and he remembers, vaguely, of all of the sudden moments of self-understanding he experienced in the warehouse. 

Vaguely, Hinata recalls Souda saying that Komaeda would see the arm as a symbol of hope, a way to carry his past with him, wielding it as a weapon against the uncertain future.

He was right. Not only did Komaeda see it as such, but he did, too. While it did take a while for Hinata to even convince him to go through with the operation (largely because Komaeda doubted whether or not Hinata was lying about Kamukura's existence; he was still ashamed of it then, a coloured contact concealing the testament to his bloodsoaked existence), he remembers the overwhelming sense of freedom that came along with tossing the necrotic arm into the hospital incinerator.

He remembers the way Komaeda's face was alive with wonderment and curiosity, his pale eyes teeming with tears as the reality of his new arm sunk in. The memory is soaked with golden nectar, the recollection entirely sweet as a younger Hinata rushes to Komaeda's side and excitedly skims the pads of his fingers across the metallic palm, Komaeda's eyes impossibly wide as he relishes the featherlight touches against his hard hand.

The prosthetic applies pressure against Hinata's back, a nonsensical murmur slipping from Komaeda's parted lips. Hinata feels his heart swell as he inches closer to Komaeda, burying his head in his chest and allowing his eyes to fall shut, wholly losing himself in his essence.

He smells slightly of cinnamon and sugar, though the sweetness is largely muted by a dull air of sterility. Hinata doesn't mind it, though. Komaeda smells like home to him, the odd intermingling of what smells like cinnamon rolls and an operating theatre causing waves of calm to crash over Hinata.

He remembers when Komaeda smelled of anesthetic and sickly sweet candy, the chaotic mess of his pale locks being akin to plumes of smoke. They smelled the part, too, the smell of a bonfire gone awry always seeming to cling to his unburned skin.

Suddenly, the long-forgotten smell of brimstone and death hang heavy in the air, and all Hinata can see is Komaeda's body mutilated and bloody across the warehouse floor. The scene is dripping with absolute agony, the smog of fresh blood and residual smoke suffocating him within the harsh reality of Komaeda's corpse. 

Pointedly, he pushes the memory away, pixels of scarlet and grey dissolving in tandem with a deep breath.

Komaeda's heart _thuds_ lightly in his chest. The sound grounds Hinata in reality.

He's alive. He's alive, has been alive for nearly thirty years. He's alive, evading the cold claws of death with a warm smile and nonchalant step.

A low sound bubbles in Komaeda's throat, flooding the air with a tired rasp. Hinata pulls his head away from his chest, his mismatched eyes glimmering with excitement as Komaeda slowly comes to.

Swampy greens blink open, their waters murky with residual exhaustion. Hinata has woken to this very sight hundreds of times, peered into those mysterious pale eyes thousands of times, and knows every detail about those rhinestone eyes like the back of his hand. Even still, after years of gazing tenderly (and tensely) into those eyes, Hinata feels himself grow light-headed beneath their gaze.

They shimmer with madness and mystery, with love and lunacy. Komaeda's eyes have always been more alive than any other part of him, the pale green orbs serving as windows into his greyed out soul. 

At the edges, they crinkle with slight amusement. The sun refracts across those swampy waters, his eyes glittering in the face of the new dawn. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Hinata murmurs, his voice still laced with sleep. Komaeda's eyes crinkle even more, his blissful expression framed by wisps of thin clouds. 

Hinata's lips pull into a smile; the pale-haired boy looks so divine in the light of the rising sun, his features softly blended out with a palette of warm orange. His hair catches the light, the waves of white appearing pastel pink beneath the sunlight. 

He wonders how Komaeda has been able to traverse the years with relative ease. He wears maturity well, his bony face growing impossibly sharper and more angular as the years passed them by. His milky skin no longer feels as if it's fragile to the touch, his figure still beautifully slim but now boasting a healthy weight.

He's grown up, no longer trapped between the odd limbo between teen and adult. He's alive with the fruits that the future had bestowed upon them, settled down a bit and learned how to love himself more as a person. Hinata feels forever indebted to fortune for allowing him to grow alongside Komaeda, entirely lucky that he was able to spend years holding his hand and soothing away his worries.

Komaeda is handsome. Beautiful, even. Hinata still finds it slightly surreal that the cherub chose to trapeze into the veil of uncertainty with him of all people. Part of Hinata feels small next to Komaeda, his face hardened from years of bearing the weight of the world. Permanent bags have settled under his eyes, the skin between his brows always seeming to crook in slight annoyance. He looks much older than his age, weathered from years of atoning for a past he _still_ can hardly comprehend.

Komaeda is ethereal, dazzling in every sense of the word. He is a supernova, cataclysmic yet bursting with beauty and intrigue. Hinata has spent years trying to unfurl the web of mystery that composes him, entirely enraptured by everything that Komaeda has been, is now, and will ever be. He knows Komaeda thinks of him the same way, as evident from their many late-night talks, and he feels indebted to the universe for allowing him to love someone so similar, yet, different to himself.

"Ah, Hajime…" his voice is raspy, laden with sleep, "Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you with my embrace."

Hinata leans back into his hand, the cool metal warmed from the heat teeming beneath his tanned skin. "I've been awake for a while."

Komaeda smiles, nodding his head slightly. Curls of white bounce in tandem with the movement and Hinata tamps away the urge to curl one around his fingers.

"Have you just been thinking?" he asks after a moment.

Hinata's smile widens. "About you."

Rose bushes sprout across Komaeda's face, his eyes widening a bit at the dorky retort. A small laugh tumbles from his mouth, the melody staining the air with something warm. 

"Did the academy purposely choose to leave you romantically inept?" he asks, his laugh growing louder when Hinata gives him a playful scowl. He clears his throat after a moment, his voice lowering to a gentler tone, "Sorry. Do you mind me asking what you thought about me?"

Komaeda's nose is still tinged with red, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Hinata moves closer to him, sighing softly when Komaeda wraps his arms tighter around him. 

"I've just been thinking about you. Everything that we've been through, everything I've seen you go through and everything I've heard about your past. I've been thinking about how good of a person you are beneath all of this shit, how much you mean to me, how lucky I am to have you," says Hinata, his head growing lighter with each word that falls from his lips. Komaeda rests his head atop of his, breathing deeply into the mess of brown.

Heterochromatic eyes flutter shut, his mind aflame as it tries to pull together coherent sentences. Many mornings and many nights have been spent like this, the two men clinging to one another as one bears their soul for the other to hear. 

Their bond is one forged in the River Styx, rich with the mercury of an otherworldly connection. They are deities born from the breath of the stars, attracted to one another through the routine of an intricate dance. They are one another's foil, their differences causing explosive matchups, their similarities always leading them back to one another.

Hinata loves him wholly. He remembers a time where he was disgusted by the pure malice that emanated from Komaeda in thick black tendrils, though even then, he still could not deny the part of him which longed to see what Komaeda was like beneath the blankets of ash.

He was drawn to him from the moment he saw Komaeda materialize above him in the simulation, the sea breeze whipping at his unruly white hair. Blurry memories of a life stained with self-hatred show him seated on a fountain in a courtyard, feminine words falling upon deaf ears as hazel eyes glue themselves to a head of white sticking out from behind a tree.

He has always felt connected to Komaeda, through all of their first times and falling outs. He feels so grateful now, having walked the treacherous path of rebirth until they reached the place they are now in life. Happy, intertwined, finally finding contentment in lives that have been so unkind.

"I love you, Komaeda. Do you know that?" says Hinata, "You've helped me learn so much about myself. About the world. I find the boring things in life to be fun, all because you were able to make me see the joy in nothingness."

Kamukura still lightly tugs at Hinata's strings, his deft hands moulding Hinata into a small reflection of himself. Disinterest sometimes lingers at the edges of his excitable words, his words sometimes falling much flatter than intended. A mask of impassive calm sometimes befalls him, a distant look glazing over mismatched eyes.

He's much better now than he was years ago, though. 

Komaeda, pulling him around the island with a kind smile, pointing out all of the flora they could collect and turn into teabags. Komaeda, able to find simple joy in preparing tea every morning for himself and Sonia to share over breakfast, shyly smiling at Hinata's observant gaze from across the dining hall. Komaeda, delighting in Mioda weaving clovers into his hair and eventually convincing a hesitant Hinata to let them weave daisy chains for him to wear.

Every little thing Komaeda did seemed to bubble with the hope of a brighter future, and his optimism was enough to slowly thaw out Hinata's world, return a vivid purpose to a world dipped in grey. Komaeda has helped Hinata as much as Hinata has helped him, whether the former realized it or not. 

"I thought about the simulation. Thought about the way you were after waking up, and the way I was after waking up. Just… general stuff about everything we've been through and how much we've shaped each other as people." 

Hinata's voice drops, the tenor of his voice soaked thoroughly with emotion. "With you in my life, I'm a better person. I honestly don't know what I would do without you, what I would've done if…"

_if you hadn't woken up._

Hinata wore himself thin waiting for Komaeda to rouse from the Program. He can still remember, vividly, how Sonia had staged an intervention for him one morning, all of her worry and concern bubbling over in the light of the rising sun. He was essentially a ghost around the island as he waited for Komaeda, largely absent from island activities and shrinking from malnutrition. 

He remembers how frustrated he was from failed attempt after failed attempt to reach Komaeda, remembers Alter Ego's monotone voice asking him _"Retry?"_ ad nauseam, his mind thoroughly eclipsed by storm clouds as his hope begun to waiver. There had been so much he had wanted to say and learn about Komaeda, and he worried there would be so much forever left unsaid between them.

"I'm sorry for not trusting you when I woke up," Komaeda whispers into his hair, "You were so monochrome but so lukewarm, and I just couldn't figure out how I was supposed to navigate the 'new' you. I… was scared. I just needed time."

Hinata smiles bittersweetly. "I know. I don't blame you, you know? I didn't know anything about this 'new me', either. All I knew is that I wanted to reject it as much as possible, but you helped me learn to love both halves of myself."

Komaeda sighs. "You are everything I want to be, Hajime. You always have been. I was jealous of you in the simulation, so wholly envious of how you were able to wield your words into being a symbol of hope despite having no talent. I woke up, still envious of you, knowing that you were actually brimming of everything I could ever possibly aspire to be. It still amazes me that you've settled for someone like me, when you are so…"

Hinata pulls his head out of his chest and looks into his eyes, not at all oblivious to the familiar haze of self-doubt that has polluted the swampy waters. Slowly, he begins, "I was… actually thinking about how I couldn't believe how you settled for someone like _me_."

Komaeda blinks, a dazed stupor painting his face. "Huh?"

"You've done so much for me, Ko. I don't think you realize how much better of a person you've made me. I learned how to love myself, how to love life again, and it's all because of you. I've loved every day I've been able to call myself yours. You're honestly one of the most caring people I've ever met, whether you realize it or not."

Cherry blossoms pop up on his cheeks, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Hinata has spent the last five years of their relationship showering him in heartfelt affection and tender touches, and it still feels as if they were teenagers, a bashful Komaeda stammering his gratitude for a present and trying hopelessly to deflect Hinata's kind words. Hinata kisses the tip of his nose then pulls away, smiling warmly at him.

"Wholeheartedly, I love you. Through thick and thin, I have loved you, and I always will love you."

"Hinata…" murmurs Komaeda, voice heavy, "You are truly too much."

His gaze softens, his brows knit together in admiration. He looks as if he is about to cry. 

"I will never be enough for you, Nagito." The words fall from Hinata's lips like a well-versed hymn, tainting the air with the weight of unfiltered affection. 

He hesitates briefly, scanning Komaeda's dazed face before he slots his lips against pale pink. 

Komaeda tastes of nectar, the golden taste of a well-forged love bubbling in his lips. 

They fall away from each other with a long sigh, their hearts beating in tandem. Hinata is the one crying, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as his mismatched eyes stare so lovingly into the swampy marshes opposite him. 

"I love you. Wholly. Thank you for everything, Komaeda Nagito. These past five years have been wonderful, and it's all thanks to you."

Komaeda's lips quirk into a small smile, the timid one he reserves for private moments like this. He finally removes his left hand from the small of Hinata's back, using it to wipe away his tears. Hinata laces his fingers through the synthetic pair before Komaeda can return it to his waist.

"Thank _you_ for everything, Hajime. You gave me another shot at life and believed in me every step of the way. You are the definition of brilliance, and I wholeheartedly believe that the best thing that my luck has given me is the chance to spend the rest of my days with you."

Then, after a long silence, Komaeda asks, "Do you remember what you asked me last night?"

_"Hey, when we get married, do you think you'd want a spring wedding or a fall wedding? You don't handle extreme elements too well, so I'm just omitting summer and winter entirely."_

_Komaeda raises a brow. "I haven't even accepted your proposition yet."_

_There's a bitterness beneath those words._

_Maybe it's from the whiskey. Maybe it's from his own reservation._

_Something flashes through Hinata's face. He had proposed to Komaeda a few months beforehand, and Komaeda had said he needed time to think about it. He had assumed that four months would've been enough to reach a consensus, but…_

_"Right. Sorry," he mumbles. Then, louder, "When will you accept it?"_

_The alcoholic edge to his question makes it easier for Komaeda to brush off._

"Yeah," he whispers, gaze downcast.

Komaeda lets go of his hand and rolls over onto his back, eyes glued to the ceiling. 

"Hinata-kun…" The formality of it causes Hinata to cringe. Thankfully, Komaeda doesn't notice.

"I read once, in a book, that we are all asleep until we fall in love. I've lived these past five years awake, but it's that sort of languid awakeness where you can't tell if you're actually awake or merely lucid dreaming. I spent every day wondering when I'll wake up, wondering when I'll see your mismatched eyes again, hovering over my pod after rousing me from this simulated life with you."

Hinata rolls onto his back, too, his eyes sliding shut as he listens to Komaeda's lukewarm dulcet tones fill the air with an intangible weight. 

"It's why I told you I needed time before I tied my soul to yours. I didn't want to wake up and have such a pleasant dream ripped from me." He sighs. A beat of silence. "I think I've realized now that this is real. All of this is real. What you and I have is _real_ and I am beyond blessed to be able to love you Hinata Hajime, and I…"

Komaeda sits up in bed and Hinata mirrors him.

Komaeda takes his hands in his and Hinata rubs circles into them.

Komaeda stares into his eyes and Hinata meets his gaze.

"I want to marry you," he whispers, tears spilling from his eyes, "I've made up my mind."

Komaeda loves him and Hinata loves him back.

Hinata lets his hands fall away from Komaeda's as he gets out of bed, stepping over to their shared dresser and digging through the contents of the top drawer until he fishes out a band of silver, the jade gem in its center glimmering brilliantly in the light.

A tender silence hangs between them as Komaeda extends his hand — his _left_ hand, the hand Hinata had poured so much love and effort into creating for _him_ — and grins as the ring is slid onto his fourth finger. Thousands of words hang unsaid in the air, swirling around their heads and pulling warmly on their hearts. 

Hinata grabs his wrist and pulls him onto him, their lips falling together as if they were created to _fit_ together.

He cries into the kiss, wholly intoxicated by the sweet wine of their rich romance. Komaeda tastes of home and hearth, spiderwebs of unspoken affection unfurling themselves against Hinata's lips. 

Their hearts burn with the intensity of a thousand suns, the collision of the two celestials captured in soft oranges by the sunrise. They have always been orbiting one another like stars destined to combine into something greater. It was only a matter of time until they fell into one another, coming together under the promise of a late life spent in each other's arms.

For the dozenth time that morning, Hinata wonders how he got lucky enough to spend the last five years of his life being able to love Komaeda. 

For the first time that morning, Hinata wonders how he got lucky enough to spend the rest of his life being able to love Komaeda.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the first half of this over the course of a couple days and the second half this afternoon so it ended up drifting so fucking far from my original vision LMFAO but i hope you enjoyed the read regardless!!
> 
> thank you, as always, for taking the time to read my work! ^_^ <333


End file.
